


All Full with Feasting

by Dialects_and_Costumes



Series: Sonnets are Sexy, Pass it On [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Strangers to Lovers, author's first attempt writing hetero smut, clearly subtlety is for the weak, there's a lot of food and eating metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:21:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23812972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dialects_and_Costumes/pseuds/Dialects_and_Costumes
Summary: "She's looking at him like she wants to eat him instead of the dessert he made for her, but if the past week has made Jaime sure of anything, it's that it's his turn to feast."
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Sonnets are Sexy, Pass it On [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742974
Comments: 71
Kudos: 200
Collections: J/B Monthly Madness: April 2020





	All Full with Feasting

**Author's Note:**

> Gwendoline MOTHERFUCKING Christie did a video that's been making the rounds on Tumblr advertising a pop up restaurant by being quite literally the hottest she's ever looked, and I lost my FUCKING mind because I'm only a poor queer lady trying her best. This is the result of my brain being fried into oblivion.
> 
> Feel free to suffer along with me by watching the video [here.](https://unadulteratedkr.tumblr.com/post/616226595555950592)
> 
> Title comes from Shakespeare's 75th sonnet: "So are you to my thoughts as food to life"

“Food critic alert, Jos caught her pulling out a notepad.” Jaime blinks, momentarily distracted from his obsessive monitoring of the plating happening in his kitchen. His maître-d is washing his hands, indicating with his head towards the swinging kitchen doors.

“Where is she?” Jaime scowls at the man, as if the generic gesture was helpful at all.

“Tall blonde chick at the end of the bar; she’s the only person dressed right for this place.”

Jaime stops hovering over the plating station, and presses his way through to the front of house. Every square inch of Golden Sea Bistro is brand spanking new, and Jaime’s loving hand is present in every folded napkin and speck of paint. He’s been dying to create a place in the city for people to visit when they want to feel special, but so far the week’s patrons have been his father’s crowd, boring conversation, boring high end clothes, snidely picking the one thing in a dish that makes it unique and asking for a substitution.

Not the food critic, though. She’s wearing designer clothing like everyone else in the restaurant, but her choices aren’t the latest fashion or what’s acceptable for a high end restaurant; it’s clear she picked the soft cardigan and blouse to feel comfortable. She’s got a scarf wrapped around her head, and it would look stupid on anyone else, but it looks whimsical on her, and Jaime smiles to know she’s got the vibe of this place, _his baby_ , just right.

Saying she’s tall is like saying last night’s opening gala’s pièce montée was _neat_. Just as the sweeping black and red caramel work had made the bistro’s soft-open guests declare their salivating desire for more, the Amazon at the bar’s lengthy limbs make Jaime’s mouth go dry as he sees just how long her legs are, perched on the bar stool. He watches her, captivated as his bartender delivers Jaime’s signature cocktail, a berry and basil martini. He wonders if she’ll notice the blend of aromatic and sweet, if she can tell he wanted it to be savored with every sip, and he continues to watch her.

The martini glass stem looks perfect clasped between her pale, delicate fingers, and Jaime resists choking at the look of bliss on her face as she sips it. The critic tilts her head back, and he can see her swallow, and that would have been _fine_ except she reaches her hand up to run her fingers down her throat as if she was trying to caress the sweet burn of the alcohol through her skin, and _shit_ , that just isn’t normal, but he got exactly what he wanted because there’s no disguising she’s savored that sip.

His face is drained of all color when she takes the strawberry and basil garnish off the rim, and bites into it. Her eyes close, and Jaime is certain he’s dead because only in heaven would a woman be enjoying a strawberry like that in public. He’s just close enough to her that he can see the corner of her mouth tip into a faint smile, and her eyes open and meet his for an agonizing moment. Her eyes are a blue that invites him to crash his ship on the rocky shores, calling out to him to dive deep into her until he can’t breathe. Jaime blinks to save himself from completely drowning in her calm eyes, and it’s only then that he realizes astonishingly he’s more than just fascinated by this woman. _Sweet fucking Gods above_ , he’s _turned on_ , and he’s genuinely shook by the realization. He’s been in the food business for at least a decade, he’s never gotten hard watching someone eat his food before, so what the _fuck_ is going on now?

Jaime is saved from any further deep thought by one of the servers politely asking him to take a step back, and he escapes into the kitchen focused on losing himself in the madness of the back of house.

* * *

She’s back the next day, and Jaime’s already out in the front of house when she’s seated at a table by the giant windows looking out onto Blackwater Bay. He’s been monitoring his front of house staff, observing them work together, determined to ensure the maître-d isn’t letting anything slide or being too much of a bully, but all that’s out the window when he sees her.

She’s dressed up again, and it makes Jaime’s blood sing. This time, her outfit is that luscious blend of comfortable and quirky because she’s wearing a simple black dress, but she’s also paired it with a cape because of course she has. He’s pleased to see her smile warmly at her server when he delivers her first course, pleased to see kindness in this fascinating woman, and he’s even more pleased when he sees what she chose for her first course.

Jaime set out to conquer the surf part of surf and turf when he assembled this menu, and the critic’s enjoying his seafood appetizer: pickled herring and sardines served cold, garnished with orange zest, rehydrated raisins and pine nuts. It’s similar to the cocktail; a delicate balance of sweet and salt. He knows now she’ll understand this just like she understood the basil and berry martini, but he can’t manage to tear himself away from watching her try it. She cuts a small bite of the fish, and _gods_ he’s hard again at her exacting precision, and he’s entrapped by his desire as he watches her lift her fork.

Right as she slides the fork into her mouth, those lamplighter eyes of hers flick up and meet his. She doesn’t break away as she takes that first bite, and Jaime sees when they light up with a sensual pleasure in the flavors he knows are lingering on her tongue. When she looks away to take a drink of water, Jaime escapes to the kitchen again, cursing the hours he spends coaching his employees until he can collapse on his bed with the memory of her eyes blazing into him, shoving his pants down just far enough to grasp his cock and stroke himself to bliss.

* * *

It’s an unseasonably cold spring night when he sees her the third time, so Jaime’s alone out on the restaurant patio taking a phone call from a supplier. He’s been put on hold, and he stalks back and forth as the waves of the bay roll in the background, waiting impatiently.

He truly doesn’t know which of the gods he has to thank when he looks up and sees her again. He thinks her editor must be determined she find something she doesn’t like if they keep sending her back to the Golden Sea, but Jaime’s not about to complain about seeing her. She blends into the image he set forth to create for this space so effortlessly, her plush blazer complementing the chairs he picked, her fascinator looking like the waves crashing behind him.

Tonight, she’s decided to test his menu’s subtlety. He can see his warm vegetable salad placed in front of her: heirloom tomatoes, grilled eggplant, roasted zucchini, and toasted chickpeas. It’s a salad meant to sink into your body, it’s meant to warm you down to your toes. It’s still filled with spice and seasoning, but this plate isn’t meant to zing in your mouth, it’s meant to massage your whole body with comfort.

She looks out to the bay, and that’s when she sees him. Jaime has half a second to fret about how creepy it might seem for him to keep getting caught ogling her, but she grins at him, a silent acknowledgement of his presence. She takes a bite of the salad, and Jaime nearly drops his phone when she lets him see her reaction.

She opens her mouth in surprise, her eyes widening and then fluttering shut, and she leans her head back. Jaime is almost too entranced by her throat to notice her fingers flexing on the tablecloth, and he makes a strangled sound because he would jump into the ocean right now to see her looking like that from his knees. She relaxes slightly, her eyes opening again and she looks startled by her own reaction, and their eyes are locked up until the moment Jaime jumps with surprise as his supplier starts yammering away in his ear. He grimaces, turning away slightly to deal with the phone call, and by the time he turns back, she’s gone.

It takes all of Jaime’s precious little self-control not to stalk over to the book still waiting to be cleared from her table so he can finally learn her name. He wants to be moaning her name later tonight, but even the remaining cell functioning in his brain knows that’s a violation, and he’s not about to betray her trust.

He hopes she comes back tomorrow.

* * *

Yeah, Jaime’s definitely going to have to start visiting the Sept by his house again because one of those stony bastards is looking out for him. She’s back. He’s known she was here for at least the past half hour, but Jaime’s convinced he’s going to actually talk to her tonight, so he's throwing himself into work to ease the edge of his nerves. He’s been wrangled into helping with prep work to replace a sick employee in the kitchen, but once everything is filleted, diced, measured, and seasoned, he washes up and slips out into the dining area.

She’s sitting at the table he’s starting to label as hers. It's close enough to the bar for him to putter behind it while he watches her, but far enough away for her to remain in her own world as she samples and savors the menu he spend months crafting. Tonight, her shoulders are exposed in the black dress she’s wearing, and Jaime doesn’t bother to spare a moment to be embarrassed wondering what it would be like to be embraced by a woman as strong as she clearly is.

She’s chosen seafood again tonight, and Jaime is foolishly pleased to know he literally prepared some of the ingredients on her plate. It’s a steam-poached sea bass, seasoned ever so lightly with a kiss of lemon, and wrapped in samphire grown from the cliff-side rocks of his hometown to infuse it with the salt of the ocean.

This time, her eyes capture Jaime’s immediately, and she shares the entire plate with him, _knowing_ he’s watching her from afar. She's got a smile tucked away that comes out when she takes a bite. He had known the minute he saw what she ordered she would love it, but he cherishes the smile she shoots his way all the same. They exchange smiles and knowing glances as she eats and as he gazes at her. He grins as her eyes close with that final bite of fish, wishing he could hear if she’s humming with satisfaction, but his grin slips away when he realizes she hasn’t taken the fork out of her mouth. Her eyes open slowly, and she has Jaime completely at her mercy as she tugs the fork down slowly, letting the prongs linger on her bottom lip, dragging it down like it’s been bitten. _Fuck._

Jaime’s jaw is slack as he stares at the woman across from him, and he knows the heat in her eyes is both hers and a mirror of his own. It’s only when the sound of half a metro shelf of dishes crashing thuds against his brain that Jaime has to break away from the spell she’s cast on him. He glances back at her with a wistfulness that could break hearts, and she smiles back at him gently.

 _Tomorrow_ , she mouths at him. Jaime nods sharply before rushing back to the kitchen to survey the damage.

* * *

Jaime has spent the entire evening driving his employees crazy, and they’ve had enough. Jaime finds himself banished out to sit at the bar to “have a goddamn _drink_ already”, and he takes a small sip of Jos’s expertly handcrafted old fashioned when she walks through the door. His mouth goes dry and his palms are sweaty because she’s dressed so simply, just a dress tonight, but it’s so perfect for what he’s planned for her, it makes his heart jump. The color of her dress matches the dessert being brought out to her table so perfectly, and he gets to watch her eyes flash in surprise. She glances up at him, and sits down at the table.

The dessert is a honey and thyme roasted peach, picked at the peak of ripeness, garnished with a mascarpone ice-cream. It’s sweet, yes, but it wouldn’t belong on the menu here if it wasn’t more than that. Jaime knows she’s going to love every last bite almost as much as he’s going to enjoy watching her take them. Her nose wrinkles as she takes that first bite, and she tries to identify all the flavors singing on her tongue, and Jaime is rewarded by a delighted smile. She looks up at him as she takes another bite.

The smile is gone, but the passion has replaced it. She's looking at him like she wants to eat him instead of the dessert in front of her, but if the past week has made Jaime sure of anything, it's that it's his turn to feast.

Every crumb is scraped off the plate, and Jaime thinks he’s finally ready walk over to her and pull her away, learn her name, learn how to make her scream, and then she runs her finger through the residual cream on the plate. She leans forward, elbow on the table and brings her finger to her mouth and she sucks her finger clean, and now Jaime can't think, can't process what two plus two equals let alone how to successfully drag this woman away to claim as his because her cheeks are _hollow_ as she savors every last drop of the dessert in front of him. No, Jaime’s last remaining shred of sanity is obliterated, and it’s all he can do to keep leaning on his end of the bar. He doesn’t have the ability to drag her _anywhere._

So she does it for him.

She walks over to him, her insanity-inducing blue eyes filled with promise, and she smiles that knowing smile that makes Jaime want to weep with gratitude.

"Your menu is to die for" she says, and _oh_ now Jaime is lost to the world because she just said she likes his work, and her voice would be husky if it hadn’t just been smoothed into velvet territory by the ice cream.

"You're to die for" he blurts out, his face twisting in embarrassment at the line. _Gods_ , did he really just say that? But now she's laughing, and it resonates through every inch of her lanky frame, and Jaime is going to make her do that again if it's the last thing he does. Fuck being a restaurateur, he's going to put his tongue to so much better use with this woman or die trying.

Her laugh fades back to that sweet smile of hers, and she bites her bottom lip. Jaime is immediately jealous of her own teeth because he wants to have her lip between his teeth as she moans.

Her long lashes are languid as she blinks at him, slowly reaching out to brush one of her delicate fingers down his, and he makes a small noise in the back of his throat.

"I'm Brienne. I’m the restaurant critic for the Crownlands Courier." _Brienne_ , yes. That's the only name for someone as glorious as her. It's bold, and it vibrates deliciously in his mouth, and fuck, he's going to enjoy moaning that name.

"Nice to meet you, Brienne. I'm Jaime Lannister."

Brienne's eyes twinkle. "I know. You've been keeping an eye on me, Mr. Lannister." _Fuck_. He normally hates his last name, but she's practically purring it, and Jaime only has so much ability to stay sane after that.

"You liked my food," He responds, and she grins. It's breathtakingly genuine, and his stomach starts to do somersaults. They almost distract him away from how hard he is. _Almost._

She nods. "I did." And now she's blushing, and he can see her shoulders trembling slightly as she takes a deep and shaky breath, meeting his laser-like stare. She had been so daring when she had licked the mascarpone off her finger, and up close, Jaime is thrumming with pleasure as he sees her make the effort to be that brave up close. It’s more potent when he can see the blush spreading down to her chest, when he can see how bright it makes her eyes to walk up to a ledge and then step off of it. "I liked you watching me liking it."

He rotates his hand, dragging a finger down her warm palm as his voice catches in his throat. "Brienne, can I offer you a cup of coffee at my place?"

She curls her fingers around his wrist, grazing his pulse-point with her thumb. "Please." She murmurs, and it's all Jaime can do to not pull her close and have his wicked way with her on the table in front of the elite of Westeros.

Jaime thinks the worst thing on the planet is having to extricate his hand away from Brienne’s fingers, but he manages to do it with a promise to himself that once he has her in his apartment, he won’t let go. In the morning, he’s going to be impressed with how quickly he’s able to make his excuses to his employees, but right now he’s half agony with how long it takes him to connect with his front of house staff, the sommelier, the chefs, and the valet service.

Once he has his car sent for, he returns to Brienne and immediately takes her hand in his, entwining their fingers. She smiles at him, and he decides he can’t wait a moment longer to taste at least part of her, so he raises her hand to his mouth, turning it over so he can kiss the inside of her wrist. She watches him, inhaling sharply as he slides his tongue out, and his eyes half close when he can feel her pulse fluttering on the blade of his tongue.

Brienne’s fingers curl and she grasps his hand tightly as he pulls away. He opens his eyes to meet hers once again, and watches her desire bloom into a blush she shares just with him. The reluctance to part is evident on her face when his car pulls up outside the restaurant, and it’s more a mutual desire to keep touching rather than any sense of chivalry that leads to him escorting her to the passenger side. He tosses a gold dragon to the valet as he slides into the driver’s seat, and he glances over at Brienne.

She shoots that heartfelt grin at him again, as he takes her hand once they’ve both settled into the car. “I’ve never… this is not like me at all.” Jaime’s heart constricts at the confession, and he tightens his grip on her reassuringly as the car zips through the city toward his apartment complex.

“Same here.” His words are soft, and he takes his eyes off the road for a moment to meet hers. There’s still heat in their glances, but it’s soothed with an edge of tenderness and vulnerability. Brienne inhales and exhales quickly, and she brings his hand up to her mouth this time. She kisses the exact same spot he kissed on her wrist earlier, and it takes all of his last functioning brain cell to not run them off the road. He pulls into his apartment’s parking garage, and once the key turns, they both sit in a tense stillness. It's not an awkward silence. The desire is radiating off both of them until the air seems to be buzzing with it, but both of them want this to be just right, and Jaime knows enough to know he just doesn't _know_ how to do that.

Brienne cracks the tension with a huff of laughter and a smile, and once again Jaime feels a thrum of excitement at how courageous she is as she gazes over at him. “Coffee?” she teases him, and he nods. They’re out of the car, and Jaime’s hand meets Brienne’s as they reach out for one another, and he leads her to the elevator. The doors shut behind them and there’s an eternity in the second it takes for their eyes to meet. Jaime’s last remaining ability to think coherently is evaporating into thin air because he _cannot breathe_ for a second longer if he doesn’t know what it’s like to kiss Brienne. He tugs her towards him and he tilts his face up to capture her lips, and he was right, she’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

His free hand grasps her neck, sliding up into her hair, groaning as she presses against him. Her height allows her to be the master of their embrace and Jaime is thankful to whatever gods are still listening that she gives into it. Her tongue slides out as his lips part in a groan, and he catches a hint of the peaches and cream she had tormented him with earlier as their tongues meet. Jaime sucks on her tongue with a growl, and he can feel Brienne's knees go weak. Brienne has an arm wrapped around his neck and she’s whimpering as he manages to bite her bottom lip, and he’s got her other arm pinned behind her as he tugs her closer with their hands still entwined.

The elevator dings, and Brienne swears under her breath as they pull away from one another. Jaime refuses to let go of her hand as he drags her down the hallway to his door. A moment of fumbling with keys, and Jaime finally has Brienne in his apartment. This time, it’s Brienne tugging him towards her, and he barely hears his keys hitting the floor when he’s kissing her again. She sighs into his kiss, and she lets go of his hand to cradle his jaw in her hands. Her fingers are cool against his skin, and he moans as she runs her fingers up through his hair, her nails dragging into his scalp. He lets his head fall back, following her fingers, and she leans down to put her mouth to work on his exposed neck.

“Fuck,” Jaime groans as her lips pepper his neck, and she bites right at the point where his neck meets his collarbone. Jaime’s never been one to be quiet in any aspect of his life, but Brienne seems to be making it her mission to discover every single noise he’s got trapped inside of him. She trails her fingers down from his scalp, and she starts to tug at the buttons of his shirt. He grasps her elbows, determined not to stop her from her assault on his neck and his clothes, but he also wants to have her spread out on his bed because it’s _his_ turn to taste her, dammit.

Brienne starts to suck the spot she’s bitten as Jaime pulls her towards the bedroom, and he feels his cock pulsing hard and wanting as she marks him. He leans against the door frame, gasping for breath as Brienne pulls away, grinning triumphantly as she undoes the last button on his shirt. He surges towards her, pulling her down for another kiss, hot and hard. He backs her into his bedroom, and pulls away to playfully push her down onto the bed. She lets out a yelp of surprise, and it turns into a breathless laugh as she falls down. She’s panting, and she leans on her elbows, her eyes dancing with laughter and need.

Jaime kneels by the edge of the bed, running his hands up her legs. Brienne’s eyes are wide, the laughter in them fading to give way to her building want, and she licks her lips. “I want to taste every inch of you, Brienne.” Jaime’s voice is hoarse, and he feels like growling when Brienne shudders and she nods.

“Please,” she whispers.

His hands reach her thighs and starts to slide her dress up her legs. She lifts her hips up, and lets him push the dress all the way to her waist. Jaime kisses the edge of her hip, and he trails his tongue down until he meets fabric again. He looks up and meets Brienne’s eye with a grin, and he bites down on her underwear, dragging them down with his teeth. Brienne’s elbows give up, and she throws herself down fully on the bed with a whimper.

Jaime’s grin turns decidedly wicked because she’s right to whimper. He pulls back, taking a deep breath as he fully takes in her long legs spread askew on his bed. He runs his hands down her thighs, lifting one of her legs to rest on his shoulder. Brienne looks down at him, running a hand through her hair in anticipation. He turns his head and kisses her ankle, dragging his teeth over the tender skin by her anklebone. His kisses trail up her leg, and he lets out a murmur of pleasure as he reaches her inner thigh. Her other leg is stretched out, and she’s on full display. In the back of his mind, Jaime can hear a former instructor at his culinary institute remind his class that you eat with your eyes first, and Jaime’s mouth is watering at the sight of Brienne stretching out. She has a tangle of dark blonde curls at the apex of her thighs, and he can see them glistening.

He’s done relishing her legs, he can’t hold back, not when there’s this wonder of a woman this wet in front of him, _because of him_ , and Jaime isn’t about to turn down what Brienne’s spread legs are offering. He bites her inner thigh just once before burying his face between her legs.

Jaime's never understood people who boast about how sweet they can make a woman taste, for he delights in the realities of that sharp flavor with musk and salt and sweat behind it. He wants to keep chasing that taste that defies description, wants to swallow it, wants to pour it over himself until he can't breathe. It's so much better than sweet. Jaime groans as he licks between her lips, swirling his tongue up until he finds the spot that makes Brienne yelp. He doesn't even need to pull away to check on her, she's got her fingers tangled in his hair, keeping his face planted. "Don't stop, Gods…. Jaime don't you dare stop" she moans, and Jaime gladly obliges, his own moans muffled by her cunt.

Brienne’s leg is still dangling off his shoulder, and Jaime growls as he feels it flex against him. He strokes her leg with deft fingers as he presses the flat of his tongue down on her clit, rolling his tongue like a wave in time with her hips arching into his mouth. Jaime has to angle his head to keep her from completely smothering him as she lets out the most appealing noises, gasps and moans and whining. He knows that if she does manage to get his head back at that angle with his nose clamped shut between her legs, he’ll be euphoric in the afterlife because what a way to go.

She’s tugging his hair as her hips start to stutter and Jaime yanks Brienne as close as he can to his mouth, her ass off the bed, and he sucks until he’s sure he’s about to lose consciousness, but it’s worth it because she’s crying out _his_ name in a reverent chant, over and over as she comes on his tongue.

He pulls away reluctantly, panting as he decorates her inner thighs with gentle kisses. Her fingers slip away from his hair, trailing down his jaw, and she lets out faint sighs of pleasure. The friction in his jeans is unbearable by this point, but he could still die happy if it all ended right here. The gods seem to be truly smiling down on him though, because Brienne is struggling back up to sitting on the edge of the bed, and she’s grinning as she yanks on the collar of his open shirt.

She pulls him up to his feet, and for the first time she’s looking up at him, and they both seem to realize at the same moment they’re both wearing far too many clothes. Brienne pulls her dress the rest of the way up her body and Jaime’s knees almost give way under him because of course she wouldn’t be wearing a bra in that dress that looks like it was designed to be a second skin for her. His button-up is tossed somewhere on the ground behind him, and he’s managed to get his belt unbuckled when Brienne reaches out to run her hands down his torso. His hands stutter and she takes over for him. Jaime’s breath catches when Brienne gets her fingers under his boxers and tugs them down along with his jeans, and he kicks them off to the side, managing to wrestle his shoes off in the process.

His cock is swollen with his desire, a blush of red at its gleaming tip. Brienne hums to herself, a crooked smile tugging at her lips, and before Jaime can pin her to the bed, she’s leaning forward and taking him into her mouth, and it’s so much better than what his dull fantasies had conjured when she had lavished attention on the fork last night. Jaime keens with need, and Brienne looks drunk with pleasure, with satisfaction, with desire, and even better… she looks hungry for more. Her cheeks hollow as she draws him deep into her mouth, and Jaime can see her tongue swirling around his length. He runs his hands through her hair, and moans, his whole body curling forward, bent over Brienne as she devours him. He tugs her head back, a silent plea for mercy, and she’s practically leisurely as she pulls away, licking her lips. He bends down, kissing her with a groan, and her responding kiss is so open and unhurried and permissive, he almost wants to pull away and tell her he’s not worth that level of trust.

“I want you on top of me, Brienne,” Jaime mutters against her mouth instead, giving into this bold new person, trusting her with his body, his voice rough with need. Brienne is panting again, and she tugs him down on the bed.

“Yes,” She breathes, tangling herself in his embrace. He’s half on top of her, and they laugh breathlessly, crawling and scooting and wrestling their way up to the pillows. Jaime tugs open the drawer by his bedside, pulling out a condom, and Brienne plucks it from his fingers. She opens it, and makes an act out of slowly rolling it over his cock, and her face is flushed with pleasure when Jaime groans at her slow strokes.

Brienne straddles his hips, and they both take each other in, _you eat with your eyes first_ , and she’s glorious. Her ivory skin is rosy, her nipples are pinched tight, her shoulders are strong, and there’s a gleam of sweat on her stomach and in the dip between her neck and shoulders. Jaime’s mind is already racing with all the other ways he can use his tongue to drive this woman as crazy she’s made him. He runs his hands up those gorgeous legs pinning him to the bed, and she lets out a throaty sigh. He can feel the strength in them as she lifts herself up, and they both moan when she grasps his cock and leads it to her entrance. She’s teasing herself with him, rocking her hips back and forth, and the friction is maddening but _fuck¸_ the noises Brienne is making just might make it worth it, and then he can’t think anything at all because Brienne is sinking down on his length and gods above, this is what heaven feels like.

Brienne is wet and soft and she’s fully surrounding him, taking in all of his cock into her, and yeah, Jaime’s definitely dead because he feels her flex and this time it’s not her legs, it’s _her,_ and it makes him yell her name. She cries out and it’s also a laugh because there is _joy_ in between their pants and moans. When he can finally open his eyes, she looks almost dazed with pleasure, and he wants her to make that noise again. Her body is like a wave, rolling forward and back, _fucking him_ , and Jaime is already close to being undone.

He pushes himself up, wrapping his arms around her, needing her close as she whimpers, as she takes her pleasure from him with thrusting and grinding hips. He moans against her skin, sucking on one of her nipples as it thrusts into his field of vision, and Brienne tosses her head back to whine as he rolls it with his tongue. Her skin is salty with sweat, and it makes his mouth water, and he only pulls away to mutter against her skin, “fuck that feels amazing, you’re incredible, Brienne, don’t stop, please… please don’t stop,” and his begging makes Brienne let out that glorious laugh of pleasure he’s already addicted to.

She bends her head down to moan directly in his ear, and Jaime is so so close but now he can hear her and feel her breath against his skin and she’s breathless as she says his name over and over again like it’s her salvation, “Jaime… fuck, Jaime yes, I won’t stop, can’t stop, want you, need you, Jaime” and she’s clenching around him tightly, and Jaime loses control. His fingers dig into her back and he bites down hard on her shoulder, groaning as his hips snap up uncontrollably, gasping as Brienne fucking _squeaks_ with pleasure, and he’s in a white-out daze as he watches her tremble in his arms, too blissed out to be cocky at making her come again.

They both fall back onto the bed, and Jaime refuses to let go of her, and Brienne shivers like her body’s going into shock. There’s a sense of reluctance from both of them when Jaime finally slides out of her, and she huffs a laugh into his shoulder when he grimaces taking the condom off carefully. Jaime tugs a blanket over them both, and Brienne plasters herself to his chest, nestled into the crook of his arm. Her head is right above his heart, and she traces lazy patterns on his skin as they hold one another.

Jaime doesn’t want to break the magic of this moment but he is Jaime, and there’s only so much anyone can do to tame his tongue into submission, so he chuckles softly and looks down at the goddess in his arms.

"So does this affect your review?" Brienne arches her brow, her lovely plump lip quirking with a smirk, as she cranes her neck to look up at him. Jaime is irrationally pleased to see her lips are swollen from his attention, and knows that he’s definitely died and gone to heaven because this woman, this incredible woman he’s only known for hours, already knows that Jaime isn’t being serious and that his joke isn't made to push her away, just to make her laugh. Which she does.

"You wish."

"Coffee tomorrow morning maybe?" Jaime offers, loving how he can feel Brienne's laugh against his chest, and he silently makes a promise to keep her there, right next to his heart, for as long as he can.

"Only if you make me breakfast."

"Deal."

* * *

When Jaime wakes before Brienne the next morning, he has a text from his brother with a link to a review posted last night.

"Golden Sea Bistro: A Taste of Paradise" by Brienne Tarth.

Jaime wakes her with a grin, muttering in her ear how eager he is to taste paradise once again, and the coffee is forgotten for a few more hours.

**Author's Note:**

> SO. My first porn.
> 
> Be gentle with me... and if you want to be rough, remember my safe-word is pineapple.
> 
> I decided to take on a less "this person brushed up against me and now I'm turned on?!" and more of a "she's just eating food, there's no WAY it's supposed to be that sexy" approach to accidental stimulation.
> 
> The food described in the story is exactly what Gwen is eating in the video, so I shamelessly decided to steal it for my own purposes. I know nothing about how high-end restaurants work, or how to craft a menu for one.


End file.
